


The War on Falling Stars Chapter 3 .::Phenomenology::.

by Antigravity_Carnivore



Series: The War on Falling Stars [3]
Category: Breaking Benjamin (Band), Project Vela (Band), STARSET (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon Gay Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F.E.C., F/M, Future, Future Fic, Gay, Government Conspiracy, Inspired by Music, M/M, New West, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigravity_Carnivore/pseuds/Antigravity_Carnivore
Summary: Trying to get back into life and dealing with the loss of his daughter, Ember, Scott tries his best to regain a bit of normalcy and find closure, only to have that shattered when he meets Dustin Bates, who shows him something unbelievable.Meanwhile, Thomas and Lizzie Bell return home after the funeral, hoping that they start over again, however, when Thomas goes missing, it leaves Lizzie shattered and she sets out on a journey to find him.
Relationships: Dustin Bates/Benjamin Burnley, Dustin Bates/Brock Richards
Series: The War on Falling Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1322462





	The War on Falling Stars Chapter 3 .::Phenomenology::.

The War on Falling Stars  
Chapter 3  
.::Phenomenology::.

Scott sat down at his computer, averting his eyes from the harsh glaring screen for a moment and staring out to the dark street beyond. The morning had been riddled with strange storms that rolled in out of nowhere, baffling all the annoying weather men on TV who were now endlessly apologizing for the unexpected downpours. Reaching over, Scott picked up the television remote and clicked it off. Even though the volume was muted, he could see their stupid antics out of the corner of his vision, trying to be silly or humorous just to attract more views and it distracted him. He wasn’t in the mood. It had been a long day of gathering paperwork and he was mentally exhausted.

The storms had passed in the early evening, leaving the sun to set against a sky of brilliant oranges and reds. Scott sat at his desk for over an hour, watching the sun slowly slip down behind the mountains and the blanket of night to embrace the world. He was dreading tomorrow. It would be the first day at his new ‘normal’ job, as a music teacher at the local college, and he wasn’t sure if he was up to it yet. The thought of interacting with strangers and facing the world terrified him, but there were bills to be paid and he couldn’t stay cooped up in the house alone anymore. Somehow, he would have to find a way to drag himself out of the muck he buried himself in for so long.

The cursor on the computer screen blinked at a steady pace, patiently waiting input. Scott had spent far too many hours in this chair, staring into the endless abyss of the internet, desperately looking for answers. None came. He followed every lead, searched through every social media site, hoping to find some trace, but it was all a bunch of dead ends. After a while, he started to believe that maybe he was wasting his time, dwindling away the last pennies of his savings looking for a sign, or proof that he was right, but the bank account emptied and he still didn’t have the answers he was looking for.

Suddenly, a motion light turned on at the house across the street. Curious, Scott pulled down the blinds and watched as Lizzie pulled up in Thomas’s car and got out. Lizzie hadn’t been home in over a year, choosing to spend every moment at Tristan’s bed side. It was unusual for her to be home. A pit began to open up in Scott’s stomach, and he feared the worst. Had something happened to the little boy? Lizzie said that she would never leave his side, but yet here she was. Curious, Scott was up on his feet in an instant, pulling at the front door as fast as he could in an effort to catch her before she went inside. Just as he made it half way across the street, he saw Lizzie go around to the passenger’s side of the door and help Thomas out. Something was definitely wrong. He looked ashen pale, with red tinged eyes and staggered as he walked. Scott slowly approached the couple.

“Hey Thomas, are you okay? You don’t look so good man. Here let me help.” Scott hurried over and tried to get between them, but Lizzie wouldn’t let go of her husband.

“It’s alright Scott, I am fine.” Thomas said in a shaky voice.

“You sure?”

Lizzie smiled. “Yes we’re good. Thomas just fell ill when we were at the funeral today for his father; he just needs a little rest and some fluids. It could be the start of the flu, so I am going to take care of him. Selene promised me that she would keep an eye on Tristan tonight while I make Thomas comfortable here at home. If you like, you can come over in the morning and check on him then. I know that you worry a lot, Scott.”

Scott scratched at the corner of his beard. Lizzie seemed so calm and together, unlike the last time he had seen her. Her hair was a little thinner now, and the corners of her eyes showed a wrinkle or two, but she was still the sweetest woman he had ever met. “Yeah I guess I can do that before I go to work. I got a job at the college. It’s my first day teaching. I never thought I would want to work with kids, but eh, college might not be so bad.” He shrugged. “And I figured it’s time that I started to move on, after everything that happened with….” Cutting himself off, Scott found it hard to say their names, and ended the sentence awkwardly.

Lizzie could feel Thomas’s weight bearing down on her, he was still incredibly dizzy from the incident at the cemetery and all she wanted to do was get him inside, but she also did not want to be rude to Scott. He was more than a neighbor; he was like family to them. “I am sure that one day, they will find Ember.” She said softly. “And Travis too of course.” She added.

“Yeah. They will. They will find both of them.” Scott said gruffly. An uncomfortable silence descended on them, and Scott didn’t feel like talking anymore. He got his answers, and was desperate to retreat back into the sanctity of his house. “Uh okay I am going to go to sleep now. Big day ahead of me tomorrow.” He took a few steps backwards and waved to Thomas and Lizzie. The entire exchange seemed awkward. “Have a good night, both of you. Thomas, I’ll catch you in the morning!” Before they could say another word, Scott turned around and scurried back up the sidewalk to his house and slammed the door behind him. He leaned his back against it and sunk down to the floor, resting his head against his knees. “I was wrong; I can’t do this alone… I need you, I need both of you.” he whispered. Feeling depressed once again, he somehow managed to sink down into the couch and fall into a fitful sleep.

The sound of a phone ringing woke Scott from his slumber. Prying his eyes open and blinking out the bright early morning sun, he struggled to pull the phone out of his pocket. He had fallen asleep while leaning against the door, and now every single muscle in his body was screaming out in protest. Once his eyes fully opened, he glanced down at the screen and noticed the alarm. It was the third one he had set so he wouldn’t be late for his new job; he had slept through the other two. Cursing underneath his breath, he jumped to his feet, ignoring the pain of his stiff joints and ran to the shower. He had meant to shave the night before, to start his new job without his bright red beard, sort of a ‘new day, new you’ kind of thing, but that was completely out of the question now. Throwing on a casual outfit that he had thankfully laid out the night before, Scott took a moment to look in the mirror and run his fingers through his hair. Today had to go well. He needed this. Behind him, in the cluttered room full of guitars and guitar parts, he saw he empty bed, and it made him miss Travis even more.

Introducing himself to the students went surprisingly well for Scott. After a few initial stumbles with words, and the momentary newness of it all, he was able to finally find his groove and by midday was able to greet each new group of students with confidence. Feeling better about himself, Scott decided to step outside campus to eat his lunch on the picnic tables near the science building. The storms from the night before had all passed by, leaving a warm and sunny afternoon that hinted at a spectacular sunset to follow. Scott sat alone at the table, watching the students slowly meander out of the buildings and down the concrete paths as they made their way from class with not a single care in the world. In a way, Scott wished that he could be like one of them, only living for the moment, with little care for what was going to happen next. His entire life had changed after Travis and Ember vanished, leaving a gaping hole in his chest that he couldn’t seem to fill, no matter how hard he tried. He often told himself that it was his fault that they were gone, if he hadn’t left them alone on that stormy night, they would with him now. He didn’t bother to think about what could happen, because he was only trying to help his friend Thomas.

“Can I sit here?” A man’s voice broke Scott’s thoughts and he looked up to see a middle aged man standing near the edge of the picnic table, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a laptop in the other. He had black skinny jeans on, and a fitted white button down short sleeved shirt, adorned with a very sloppy, crooked bow-tie tucked under his neck. His hair was disheveled and messy; the worst case of bed head that Scott had ever seen, and as he stared down at him, he used his index finger and pushed his thick black glasses back up onto his nose, awaiting a response.

Scott moved over slightly, he wasn’t in the mood for one on one human interaction quite yet, and planned to finish off his lunch and let the stranger have the table. “Yeah, sure, have at it man.”  
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” The man said, taking his place next to Scott who noticed that he smelled slightly of dog. Extending his hand, he waited expectantly for Scott to take it. “You’re the new music teacher, aren’t you? Scott Spriggs? I read the email that was sent out to the faculty last month. You have quite a resume with all that musical background, even your own band, that’s pretty impressive. I listened to your stuff, it’s amazing. I do a little fiddling around with music myself, mostly musical engineering. I don’t play any instruments, it’s all electronic, but I think that it sounds pretty good. We should totally get together and play sometime.”

The sun was getting warmer now, and Scott started to regret his decision to sit outside. “I don’t play anymore.” He said flatly.

“That’s too bad. I bet we could have done an awesome collab.” The man said. Seeing that Scott wasn’t going to take his hand, he withdrew it. “I am Dustin Bates. I am Dr. Browning’s student teacher over there in that massive building.” He pointed and Scott’s eyes followed over to the science building which housed a massive telescope and satellite array. Unimpressed, Scott remained silent and finished off the last bits of his lunch, more interested in his sandwich than the hipster trying to make conversation at his table. Annoyed at the interruption, he decided to leave the overeager wanna be fan-boy to his own delusions and go sit in his car for the rest of his lunch.

“Nice to meet you, Dustin.” Scott said as he stood up from the table, brushing the crumbs of bread off his beard. “I gotta run now. Take care.” Scott turned around and started to walk away from the man.

“They aren’t gone…not completely…They are just in another place. I can’t quite figure out how to get there, but I know where they are.”

Scott stopped walking. The birds in the trees chirped as the sunlight bore down on him.

Dustin spoke again. “Ember, and Travis, don’t you want to know where they are?”

Scott whirled around and pounded his fist down onto the table. Dustin’s laptop bounced and nearly fell off the side; but he caught it in midair. “Listen here you little shit. I don’t know what game you are playing with me or what you read about me and my family on the internet, but it’s none of your business. That’s all over, in the past, I am here to try and earn some money just like you are, so I swear to Christ if you fuck this job up for me, just because of some nonsense you read about me on reddit, I will end you. So just fuck off and leave me alone. Got it?”

Adjusting his glasses, Dustin swallowed. His voice quivered. “I’m not here to cause trouble, honestly. I am actually on your side, take a look if you don’t believe me.” Opening the laptop, he flicked the power on and clicked a file on the desktop. The sun was bright overhead, and Scott struggled to see what he was being shown. Dustin gestured for him to move in closer. “Trust me; you are going to want to see this.” Noticing Scott’s hesitation, Dustin frowned. “Look, I may be coming off a little forward here, but all I want to do is help you. Honestly, I don’t mean you any harm. Just take a look at this video and if you’re not interested or at least a bit curious about what you see and hear, then you can turn around and walk away. I won’t bother you anymore. You have my word.”

Scott avoided looking at the overly serious man. “I don’t even know you.”

“30 seconds on your time. Please.” Dustin pleaded.

Letting out a sigh, Scott threw his messenger bag over his shoulder and turned back around, coming up to stand behind Dustin and looming over him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Alright, show me.” Ready to say something else, Dustin decided that his time with the large man was running out, along with his patience and he chose to remain silent and let the video speak for him. His fingers hit the play button and he sat back, watching the expression on Scott’s face go from annoyance to confusion as the screen brightened to show a fuzzy, static image projected on the monitor. “What am I watching?”

“Just… watch.”

The image on the screen cleared up a bit, to reveal a slender but muscular man draped in various layers of tan colored fabric. It wound around his arms and legs tightly, as well as his head and face, secured with bits of thin cord that clung to his body like bandages. Only the tips of his fingers were exposed. He wore thick, antique looking goggles over his eyes, which were scratched and weathered from use. But it wasn’t his appearance that interested Scott the most; it was the fact that he was carrying a small child in his arms as he approached the camera. The wind was blowing sand and dirt around the couple, but he could see that the child was dressed exactly as the man, but as it turned it’s head slightly, he could see a long braid of bright red hair streaming down it’s back. “Wait… is that?”

Dustin paused the image on the monitor for a moment. “This was a transmission that I intercepted a few weeks ago. I can’t tell you where it originated from, or how I got it until I know you are 100% on board with me. Saying it is top secret is an understatement. I will tell you that I am certain that you are looking at Travis and Ember on this video, and we can get them back and prove everyone wrong, but I can’t do it alone, I need your help.”

Scott felt his hands tremble a bit and quickly shoved them into his pockets. He immediately went on the defensive. “It’s a fake, just some people or actors that happen to look like Travis and Ember. A sick joke and I don’t want any part of it.”

Dustin reached into his pockets and took out a pair of headphones and handed them to Scott. “Listen.”

Intrigued, but still apprehensive, Scott slipped the headphones on, as Dustin hit the play button again. The cloaked and covered man moved closer to the camera and grabbed it, tilting it up to frame his face. The wind whipped madly in the background, causing electronic distortion that obscured the image making it hard to see and hear. The picture image popped and flickered, and Scott struggled to listen. As the child clung tightly to the man, he pulled down the front cowl of his hood exposing his mouth and lips. Scott stared at them longer than he should have, but he knew that those lips were familiar, because they were lips that he kissed hundreds of times before. Then the man spoke. He said one word. ‘Help’. Something out of the line of vision caught the man’s attention and the little girl in his arms screamed. He dropped the camera and took off running into the desert. The last image that Scott saw was a rip in the man’s jacket, just below the shoulder, where a large black ‘V’ was tattooed onto his skin. As the man and child faded from view, something with large black claws scooped up the camera. There was a terrible cracking sound, like glass breaking and then the screen went dark.

The video stopped, and Scott stood staring at the black screen. Dustin slowly closed the laptop and stood up. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper with his phone number on it and handed it to Scott. “If you’re looking for answers, you know how to contact me.” Dropping the bit of paper into Scott’s hand, Dustin walked off in the direction of the science building, listening to music and singing along loudly.  
The remaining hours of the day seemed to drag on for an eternity after the lunch with Dustin. Scott went about back to the classes that he had left, but he found it incredibly difficult to keep focused on teaching after what he had been shown. There was no logical explanation for the video, other than it being a well-produced hoax. The police had ruled Ember’s disappearance a kidnapping, pointing fingers and blaming Travis for it, since he was missing too. For months, Scott had argued with the police, trying to convince them that there was no way that Travis would take Ember away from him, and even though he had no parental rights to her, he still treated her and respected her as his own daughter. Never in a million years would he hurt her, but the police refused to believe that, and pushed their kidnapping theories onto the general public. For a long time afterward, Scott was hounded by reporters from crime shows and local TV stations wanting an interview. Everything about his personal life and relationship with Travis was being put on display for the entire world to see, and it drove Scott into depression. He rarely left his house, and when he did, he only did so at night to go shopping so no one would approach him. Only in recent months had the interest start to fade, and he was able to get a bit of his life back, but his heart was already lost, shattered and destroyed on the night he carelessly left Ember and Travis alone.

As the last class finished, Scott hurried home and began to pace. He had a decision to make. He wanted to know more about the video that Dustin had shown him, but he was afraid to get involved in something that was probably a hoax, and play the part of a fool again. His pacing brought him to the fireplace in the living room, where the various family photos were on display. Picking up one that was slightly larger than the rest, he lightly ran his fingers over it, and remembered the day that it was taken. It was Christmas, and the first time in a long time that he had been truly happy. After the divorce from his wife, Scott managed to stay somewhat positive, simply because he had custody of Ember. Her mother would come and visit from time to time, but she was kind enough to realize that Scott needed the little girl in his life, more than anything else.

Taking a deep breath, Scott put down the photo and pulled out his phone, bringing up the number that Dustin had given him earlier. He had exhausted every other means of trying to find his daughter and his partner, and this would be the last ditch effort. If it all turned out to be a mistake, or fake, then he would gracefully accept the fact that maybe the police were right, and Travis took Ember away. There could be no other explanation. He hit the call button on the phone and waited for it to connect. He heard the click and started to speak immediately. “Can we get them back?” he asked quietly.

“If they are still alive, we can bring them home.” Dustin answered.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose; he couldn’t believe he was falling for this nonsense. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you when I see you in person. Text me your address, I’ll pack up at once and meet you at your home.”

Looking out the window, Scott noticed the sun was starting to set, it was early evening, and he hadn’t even eaten dinner yet. “Wait, what? Tonight?”

Dustin’s voice was flat and non-emotional. “Every minute we delay is another minute that they are out there, helpless and alone. We can wait until tomorrow if you like, but they might not have another hour, much less a day. Either way, it’s up to you.” Scott didn’t respond to him; he didn’t know what to say. He could feel this growing unease inside of him, sort of like the feeling he was on a roller coaster, heading up a rickety track, each second bringing him closer and closer to the plunge down to earth. For the moment, he was still in the blissful state of safety, but one word would be all it took for it to come plunging down on him. Why was he willing to risk everything and follow this lunatic to the ends of the earth, possibly putting himself into danger? Scott’s eyes drifted over to the collection of photos again, settling on that infamous Christmas portrait of the three of them together.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“I am hanging up now; I will be waiting for your coordinates.” The phone made a tone and then the call dropped. Dustin had hung up without another word. Scott held the phone in a trembling hand and typed in his address. His finger lingered over the send button for a moment and then glided over it, forcing himself to make good on his commitment. He would do whatever he had to, to bring them home. Dustin’s reply popped up on the screen. ‘I will be there in an hour.’

Tossing the phone down on the couch, Scott ran his fingers over his face and scratched at his beard. He wanted to see more of the video that Dustin had teased him with, he wanted to go out and find where it was filmed, he wanted to drain every ounce of information out of him that he could. After months and months of being ridiculed and looked down upon by other members of the community for living with a child molester and kidnapper, he was ready to prove them all wrong and put the record right. All he had to do now was wait for an hour and the answers would come to him. Or so he thought.  
About 45 minutes of waiting there was a quick succession of rapid knocks on his door. Scott jumped up from the couch where he had been sitting uncomfortably and made his way over. Dustin was early, but that was quite alright, the sooner he got there, the better. Maybe it could be possible to get Ember and Tristan back tonight? The thought of them both home safe and sound filled Scott with hope. Could it even be possible?

Without bothering to check through the peephole, Scott opened the door, expecting to be looking at the nerdy, hipster Dustin, but much to his surprise, it wasn’t him. It was Lizzie Bell from next door, Thomas’s wife. Looking past her for a moment, out into the street, Scott stumbled over his words. “Ugh.. Lizzie, hey. It’s good to see you again. Say, I’m sorry if I bothered you last night. I ugh.. just..”

“Have you seen Thomas?” She asked in a shaky, almost broken voice. “I woke up this morning and he wasn’t in bed, I thought maybe he was downstairs making breakfast, or went out for a jog or something, but I can’t seem to find him. He wasn't feeling well last night.” Lizzie shifted from side to side and wrung her hands together. “I tried calling his cell but its shut off, then I tried calling Selene at the hospital, but she doesn’t answer either. Our car is gone; I don’t know where he went… I don’t know what to do. I have to get back to Tristan. Please Scott, can you help me?”

Glancing down at the time on his phone, Scott sighed softly. Dustin would be there shortly. “Lizzie, right now isn’t a good time.” He saw what little hope there was in her eyes start to fade. Her shoulders sunk down and she appeared to be utterly defeated. Scott felt terrible. “Hey, let me call you ahlv taxi or something? My treat okay? They can get you to the hospital in no time.” Looking through the apps on his phone, Scott didn’t see the tear slip down her cheek.

Lizzie turned away from him. “No. I don’t want to ride with a stranger. After everything that has happened around here, with Ember and Travis missing, I don’t trust anyone, except for you. I am going to keep looking; Thomas must be around here someplace. Sorry to bother you.” With small steps, she started to walk down the stone path away from Scott’s house. He suddenly remembered the feeling that he had when he came home one year ago and found his family gone, and the inner turmoil it caused when no one would help him look for them. Everyone in town was quick to point fingers at innocent Travis, and hunt him down like a criminal, it was only Lizzie and Thomas who stuck by Scott’s side and believed every word that he said. If it wasn’t for their constant reassuring, Scott would probably have been driven out of town and out of his mind months ago.

A car pulled up to the side of the street nearby and the driver shut its engine off. Scott ignored it and went after Lizzie, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back. She wheeled around and looked at him with surprised eyes. “Hey, I understand completely. Forget what I said, of course I will help you. We will find Thomas and get this whole thing sorted out. He probably went to work, forgetting to charge his phone along the way and lost track of time. You know that he was pretty obsessed with work and tends to be a bit scatterbrained at times.” Scott looked over Lizzie’s shoulder and saw Dustin get out of the car and slide his messenger bag over his shoulder. He was coming up the sidewalk towards the house. Scott let go of Lizzie’s hand and tried to lead her in the opposite direction he was walking. “Why don’t you go back to your house and grab your purse or whatever you need, and give me a few moments to run into the house here and use the bathroom? Then we can go drive to Thomas’s building and see if he checked in today okay?”

Lizzie shook her head. “I don’t need anything. Scott, I think we need to go now. Thomas wouldn’t just take off like this. I have a bad feeling. He was the one who wanted me to come home and spend some time with him, why would he just leave? I am not even sure he was in bed for all of the night. I remember him kissing me goodnight and then I closed my eyes and drifted off, then in the morning he was just gone! People just don’t vanish!” 

Dustin Bates approached them. He had been listening to their conversation. “People who have ‘vanished’ usually turn up somewhere. It’s just a matter of finding where they went, and why.” He said quietly, adjusting his glasses. “Is someone else missing?”

Lizzie looked away from Scott towards the stranger, annoyed at his interruption, and took in a deep breath. It was a perfectly still summer night, without a storm cloud in the sky, when suddenly a crack of thunder shattered the still air around them. It boomed loudly down the street and in the echoing noise afterward, Lizzie heard a voice; it was very soft and felt like velvet inside her skull. He said. ‘Don’t open the door.’ Her eyes unfocused a bit and she felt light headed, almost like she was hanging upside down for too long. She blinked a few times, trying to force the feeling away. “Do I know you?” She asked the man curiously.

‘You have to stop him, before it’s too late’ The voice sang to her, louder this time.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, Dustin extended his hand for her. Lizzie didn’t take it, and he immediately withdrew, offering her a coy smile instead. “Dustin Bates. I am a student teacher at the college. I just met Scott today during our lunch hour and we discovered that we share a lot of the same ideas and interests.” Dustin took a step up the walkway to stand next to Scott, who looked like a deer trapped in headlights. “And also, from what he’s told me about all the trouble that he’s gone through in the last year or so, being alone in the big house with no one to talk to, a little casual conversation might be good for him, don’t you think? Maybe even some male companionship to make the evening pass by a little quicker. Everyone needs a friend from time to time.” Dustin ended his introduction with a jovial grin and nod towards Scott, who stood silent and speechless, taken back by Dustin’s incredible forward.

Looking from Dustin to Scott, Lizzie’s eyes searched him, still hoping that he would help her. She ignored Dustin completely. The sound of the voice that was in her head was gone now, but the uneasy feeling of it remained behind, stalking her thoughts. Had someone else been inside her head before? She could vaguely remember hearing something, someone, commanding her to do… something terrible. She felt her fingers ache and glanced down at them, seeing her knuckles twisted and distorted into something that looked like human claws. Startled, she shoved them into her pockets and forced herself to calm down. She had to keep focused, find Thomas and get back to Tristan as soon as she could. Precious moments were lost by going to ask for help, and she silently scolded herself for not just going out on her own to look for him. Thomas was always so strong and independent, now she had to learn to be like him. “I’ll go now, I am sorry that I bothered you.”

Scott stepped away from Dustin. “No Lizzie just wait, I said I would help you, just hang on a second.” From behind him, he could hear Dustin sigh. He was getting annoyed with this man’s antics already, but he knew that he had to keep him satiated just long enough to get the information about Ember and Travis. If he offended him now, there was no way of knowing whether or not he would offer it up again. To Scott, Dustin seemed like the sort of person who craved attention, he needed to be the center of attention all the time, and if he didn’t get it, he would go seek it elsewhere. Even so, Lizzie was more important to Scott than some stranger with a possibly fake video. He would have to send Dustin away. “Hey, Dustin. Can we do this another time please? Lizzie here needs me to drive her into town to check up on her husband.”

Dustin raised an eyebrow. “Ah, he’s the one you spoke of earlier. He’s vanished now too? I believe that I can help you if…”

“No need.” Scott cut Dustin off and grabbed hold of his elbow, leading him off the sidewalk to a grassy area away from Lizzie. “Listen… her son has been in a coma for a year now, and that girl has been through hell and back sitting at his bedside every single night since it happened. Now her first night home and she wakes up to find her husband gone, so she’s probably the equivalent of a mental train wreck right now, so I don’t want you filling her head with any half assed ideas okay? This is between the two of us. I’ll bite on your conspiracy theories and watch your web cam videos, but leave her out of this. She doesn’t need the stress.”

“What if I am right about the disappearances and her husband is just the most recent one to be taken? If we act fast, and get some information from her, maybe we can bring him back too. There is a pattern here, Scott and none of you can see it… it’s a puzzle and there is one single piece missing. Maybe she’s what we need to fill in the gaps.” Dustin shot back, motioning to Lizzie. “I am offering you a chance to be part of something big here, something that is going to change the world and you want to play Uber driver for her? I can assure you that he’s not anywhere in this world that you can find him.”

Scott scowled at Dustin. “You’re insane. I should never have agreed to this.”

Shrugging, Dustin shouldered his messenger bag higher up onto his arm. “Every single person who changed this world, for good or bad was once believed to be insane. It’s not by making logical choices and playing it safe that things happen. They are only set in motion because we make them. If you think I am insane, then send me away, but do it soon because time is running out and I assure you that you will never have this chance again to learn the truth.”

“Scott?” Lizzie’s voice rang out over the lawn.

Scott glared at Dustin for a moment and went to her. “What is it?”

Holding her phone in her hand, Lizzie pushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes with the other one. “Can I borrow your car? Selene sent me a message, she asked me to come to the hospital right away, she didn’t say why but I think its Tristan. What if he’s waking up? I have to go, right now.” Lizzie’s eyes lit up with excitement. This was a moment she had been waiting for, for over a year.

“Lizzie, wait. Don’t go jumping to conclusions and getting your hopes up. You don’t know anything yet. What about Thomas?” Scott asked, keeping his eye on Dustin who was creeping closer to listen to the conversation.

Shaking her head, Lizzie clutched the phone with both hands. “I asked Selene, but she didn’t respond, I think that there may be something wrong with her phone. Thomas is probably there already, waiting for me, I have to go. Can I please have your car?” She asked again; but this time more desperate. “I promise that I will be careful.”

Scott pulled the keys out of his pocket. “Are you sure that you want to go alone? My offer to go look for Thomas still stands. We can go check on Tristan and then find out where Thomas is together.”

Snatching the keys from his hand, Lizzie flashed a smile at him. “No need. I know he’s there, waiting for me. There is no other place where he could possibly be. They are both there, my boys, with Selene, and I have to go to them. You can go inside and speak with your new friend, or do whatever you had planned with him; I promise that I will call you as soon as I find out what is going on.”

“Lizzie. I don’t like this.” Scott mumbled. “Something feels wrong about the whole situation.” He noticed that Dustin had retreated up the walkway and was sitting on the front stoop of his house, completely uninterested now.

Jingling the keys in her hand, Lizzie stepped forward and gave Scott a quick kiss on the cheek. Her lips were warm and she smelled like sweet apples. “I’ll be safe. I promise.” Quickly hurrying away, Lizzie made her way down the path and over to Scott’s car. He heard the engine start up, and saw Lizzie drive away in the direction of the hospital. Taking off his knit cap, Scott scratched his head and made his way back up to the house, where Dustin was waiting. He didn’t say a word to him, just gestured for him to come inside. Obediently, Dustin followed and sat his bag down on the small kitchen table, while Scott made coffee for them.

“I will warn you right now, I suck at making coffee.” He said, unfolding a filter and shoving it forcefully into the coffee machine. “Even with those single serving machines, I still can’t manage to get it right.” He looked out of the window for a moment and watched the last rays of sunlight dip down over the mountains. “Travis was always the one to make it, he’s much better than I.”

Pulling out his laptop, Dustin patiently waited for it to boot up. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, both of them.” Scott searched through the cupboards for two decent tea cups without any chips or cracks in them. He couldn’t help but to smile when looking at them, Ember always like collecting unusual, broken things. “When I left that night, I never thought that I would be returning home to an empty house. I remember walking up the driveway the next morning and seeing all this fog. I could barely even see front door until I was right on it, and when I did, my heart just stopped. It was left wide open. I ran inside, calling out for them, but no one answered me. I was terrified and afraid to make my way up the stairs, fearing that I would find them both dead because some lunatic got into the house and killed them, but that wasn’t the case. They just both…vanished. I don’t know how long I ran around these six rooms, over and over again until I finally gave up. In my heart, I think that I knew they weren’t here. I couldn’t feel their presence anymore; it was almost as if they had been snuffed out of existence.” Scott poured the coffee and wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell. Another burnt pot. He placed the cup down in front of Dustin and joined him at the table. “I guess at some point, the depression kicked in, and I started to realize that after years, I was finally alone. No partner, no daughter, nothing but myself and my own thoughts in this huge house. I refused to let it get me, or give into it. Sure, I was a complete wreck and a shell of a man, but I hung in there, because somehow, I know that they both are alive, and out there somewhere, waiting to be found.”

Taking a sip of the hot liquid, Dustin winced and wrinkled his nose, trying to hide his repulsion at the nasty cup of sludge in front of him, but Scott didn’t seem to care. “I once worked for NASA, although technically it wasn’t the official NASA it was a small off shoot branch of independent researchers who did their own projects and reported their findings on a regular basis. My best friend and supervisor, Dr. Weis and I were in charge of sorting out signals which came in from outer space. It’s like a garbage dump out there, there are radio waves being bounced off satellites and towers, signals from all around the world from cellphones and Bluetooth devices that extend far into the galaxy and it all gets jumbled together. Dr. Weis had a theory that in this proverbial cesspool of electronic noise, there was a real signal from somewhere we’ve never been before just waiting to be discovered…and he was right. While searching through the wayward signals, I found it. A single message repeating over and over from coordinates that were not in our solar system. They repeated one word over and over… ‘help’. I tracked the source code down and discovered a planet, much like earth, which no one has ever seen or heard of before. Shortly after discovering it, I found myself hounded by very unofficial NASA agents who demanded I hand all the information I had collected over. When I hesitated, just for a moment, they got violent and assaulted me.” Dustin looked down to his cup of coffee, watching the cloud of creamer slowly dissipate into the black swill. “That’s when Dr. Weis stepped in… he took out the men who came for me, slitting both of their throats and letting them bleed out without a single care. I had never seen a man die before that day, and I never want to again. Dr. Wise instructed me to download all the information I had gathered and place it on a flash drive, and then delete it off my terminal. After he did that, he placed a virus in their system and we fled the scene. We didn’t make it far, before more guards came… there were too many for us to take, so he turned to me and told me to make a run for it. I didn’t want to, I couldn’t leave my friend there but there was no other choice. The last memory I have of Dr. Wise is seeing him run straight at the guards, and then being riddled with bullets, as I ducked out into the alley.”

Scott sat back in his chair, listening with interest, but his mind was still on Lizzie. His cellphone sat on the table next to him, and occasionally his eyes would dart over to it, anxious for a message. He hated the fact that he had just let her leave on her own, but Dustin’s presence put him off, and he was not thinking clearly. “I am sorry; exactly what does this have to do with Ember and Travis?”

Dustin held up his hand. “It’s all connected; I assure you, let me continue. While on the run, and not knowing what to do with this information I had, I ran into Dr. Browning, who was Dr. Weis’s personal friend and confidant. He had a job at the college here and agreed to help me stay hidden until we could decide what step to take next. All we knew is that whatever this planet is, it’s a valuable resource that the government wants, but someone is there, desperately begging for help. I continued to monitor the signal, but I didn’t get anything other than that voice repeating ‘help’ over and over again, that is…until recently. Around the time that Travis and Ember had disappeared, a series of transmissions started being broadcast from the planet, which I discovered was called Prox. It was a man and a child now, on a video feed calling for help instead of just a faceless voice.”

Letting out a chuckle, Scott stared at Dustin in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Ember and Travis are on another planet? That they somehow got abducted by aliens and dropped off light years away? I was right, you are nuts.” He stood up and walked away from the table. Looking out the kitchen window, he glanced over to Thomas and Lizzie’s dark house and wished that they were there. “God, I thought you were serious about this. I wasted enough time. You can leave now.” Ignoring Scott’s request, Dustin brought up a photo gallery on his laptop and pushed it over to where Scott was standing. It cycled through a series of video clips, all blurry and distorted, but still somewhat readable. They showed the same man from the previous video with a little girl, both wrapped up from head to toe in disheveled clothing, hiding out in various desert like locations, their eyes dark and haunted, broadcasting the same signal over and over. ‘help’ Over the course of the gallery, both the man and the child became thin and gaunt, almost skeletal. Near the end, the man had taken the small girl into his arms and was carrying her. By the last 5 second clip, she was laying down on the ground behind him, and there were tears in his eyes as he sent the transmission. ‘help, us please’—No other words or location, just those words, repeated over and over. Reaching the end of the clips, the computer restarted them, and Scott walked over and shut the laptop. He didn’t want to see anymore. “I can’t believe it’s them.”

“Can’t believe, or won’t believe?” Dustin asked.

“I don’t know if I CAN believe that my partner and my child are on another planet. I mean… Doesn’t it just sound utterly ridiculous to you? How the hell would they even get there? Did some flying saucer come and beam them up and take them away? Was it a teleportation device? Even if I went along with this crazy theory, what am I supposed to do about it? Call up NASA and ask them to borrow their shuttle so I can go on a rescue mission to get them back? They would have us both locked up. You’re asking me to believe in something that is completely impossible and I just can’t do it.” Scott shot back abruptly. His fingers tightened on the edge of the counter top and he lowered his head, slumping his shoulders down, feeling utterly defeated. “I can’t believe that I fell for this crap and let you into my house.” Slowly he turned around and took the cup of coffee away from Dustin, tossing the delicate cup carelessly into the sink. “I think you should leave now. I have to get to the hospital and find Lizzie.”

Sliding the laptop back over, Dustin dropped it into his messenger bag. He didn’t bother getting up from his seat. “Even if you don’t believe that was Ember and Travis, the people of Prox need help. They are being stalked by something and we have to help them. How can you be so cold and turn your back on innocent people crying out for help?”

Moving across the kitchen with great speed, Scott grabbed hold of the front of Dustin’s shirt and gave it a yank. “Prox isn’t real!!” He shouted at him. His body jerked forward, moving away from the chair and Scott loomed over him. “I don’t know how you made those videos, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I should call the cops and have you arrested for harassment, but I am trying to be nice here and give you the benefit of the doubt. You are just mentally ill, or maybe a attention seeker just trying to make people notice him, either way, I am done with you, so I am going to ask you once again to leave my house. If you ever come to me with this again, and prey on the memory of my family, I will make sure that you won’t ever be capable of doing it ever again. They will have to carry you out of here on a stretcher, got it?” He let go of Dustin’s shirt and grabbed his messenger bag, throwing it towards the front door.

Slowly standing up, Dustin started to walk away and then stopped. He looked down at the floor. “When I was a kid, I was bullied a lot. I was a nerd, and hell… I still am. I mean just look at me. I am not the kind of person that anyone would ever take seriously, right? I wanted to do something that people would respect me for, and look up to me. I thought that I could write music, it would be easy. It’s just a bunch of notes and electronic pulses spliced together along with some clever lyrics that everyone can relate to. During my college days, late at night when all my papers were finished and my research was done, I would stay up late; scribbling down some lame ass poetry that I thought would make for a good song, filling ten, twenty notebooks with it. I gathered together a few guys that I knew could tolerate me, paid them a decent amount of money for their time and tried to start a band. I was so desperate for people to hear the music that I created, it had become somewhat of an obsession with me. I didn’t sleep the night before our first gig, I couldn’t. When we finally stepped onstage at some small venue in a no name town, I was certain that this was the moment that would change my life forever…” He stopped and picked up the laptop from where Scott had tossed it. “… it wasn’t. The music was terrible. No one listened to my words, and they never would. So I went back to my miserable existence and finished my studies. I got my degree and graduated with honors. Top of the class. I threw myself into my work, because I knew that was all I had. Imagine wanting something so badly, and finally getting it and then failing at it… it’s bad enough when this happens, but imagine it happening in front of an entire audience full of people.” Dustin gripped the shoulder strap of the messenger bag so tightly, that his knuckles turned white. “I found that signal. I found Prox, and I am one hundred percent certain that I found your family Scott. I am used to being ignored, I know how it feels to be rejected and laughed at… but I won’t let that happen. Not this time. Prox is real. I’ll prove it to you.”

Walking past Dustin, Scott didn’t say a word. He opened the door and stared him down. Dustin met his gaze and moved forward, stepping out into the dark night and disappearing from sight. The last thing he heard was the sound of the door being slammed shut behind him.

Brock woke up in the early morning hours before dawn. It was raining. The soft patter of the droplets of water on the patio outside the penthouse apartment that he shared with Siobhan should have been a easy sound to fall back asleep to, but sadly they had exactly the opposite effect. Finding that he could no longer sleep, Brock got out of bed and grabbed the nearest clean t-shirt he could find and slipped it over his head. When he lived with his friend, Justin, the front man for Live My Last, there was always a shortage of clean laundry. His mother or sister would come over for a visit and complain endlessly about how the small apartment smelled, and their lack of cleanliness in general. There would always be a scolding, but in the end, the girls would always ‘win’ out and go do a load of laundry for him. Brock’s family was always like that, caring, loving, and respectful of one another. Now finally on his own, he found that Siobhan fit in perfectly with him, she took care of him, just as his family had done, and he was deeply in love with her. She had helped him through the weeks following Justin’s untimely death, giving Brock a place to stay, but the space he needed in order to set his head right again.

Glancing over at her as she slept, Brock decided not to wake Siobhan. He knew that she had a long night at the orchestra, and came home very late. He brushed a long curl of hair off her bare shoulder and smiled at her. She still had her make up on, and it smudged around the corners of her eyes, and streaked glitter down her cheeks. Even in this state, Brock knew that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. She was something he could not live without. He bent over and kissed her shoulder. She stirred a little, but went right back to sleep. Pulling the silk sheets back up over her exposed flesh, Brock then crawled out of the bed and made his way into the living room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

It was only 5 a.m. and the room was still relatively dark, only being lit by a few fading street lights from far below. Brock made his way around the sofa and coffee table, his eyes falling over the line of guitars stood on display against the far wall. They hadn’t been touched in months. After Justin’s death, Brock found himself completely uninterested in music. He was upset with himself as well as the fact that such a great young talent was completely snuffed out so quickly. Every single member of the band knew that Justin had a problem with drugs. They saw him show up late to rehearsals and slip out ahead of time to go score more dope, but no one said a single word. They were all young and dumb, only interested in showing the world what they could do on stage. Even Brock turned a blind eye to the problem, thinking that his friend would eventually kick the habit and grow out of the addiction once their first album was released. Justin kept saying that he needed something to keep him going while he wrote the music, and after they got a record deal, it would all be alright. Brock believed him, and let someone he truly cared about completely destroy his life…and it was all because of music.  
Quietly, Brock slipped into the bathroom. Flicking on the harsh, overhead light, he blinked and winced in pain. The brightness aggravated a headache that was starting behind his eyes, and it was getting worse with every passing moment. He turned on the cold water and cupped his hands together, splashing it into his face. The cool liquid dripped down off his eyelids and nose, feeling refreshing and wonderful against his feverish skin. Leaning in against the sink, Brock closed his eyes momentarily, waiting patiently for the throbbing in his head to subside. The rain outside made the air humid and thick, and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed for a few more hours before he had to face the day. Taking a deep breath, he splashed the water into his face a few more times and then shut the faucet off. The droplets of water built up in the front fringe of his hair and were dripping off into the sink when he heard the sound of the front door of the apartment opening. Still hunched down over the sink, he called out softly. “Siobhan?”

There was no answer. Waiting a few moments, Brock listened and heard a shuffling in the next room. Once again he called out to Siobhan, this time louder, but there was still no response. Yanking the towel off the rack, Brock wiped the water off his face and threw the towel into the sink. He turned around and stepped out into the darkened living room, but it was empty. Curious, he returned to the bedroom and pushed the door open slightly and found Siobhan sleeping soundly where he had left her. His eyes went across the small penthouse apartment to the front door, and the light streaming in from the hall. It was wide open. Closing the door to the bedroom, Brock quickly checked the kitchen area and the rest of the living room, thinking maybe someone had broken in to rob them, but nothing was out of place. Everything was where it should be. Walking over to the front door, he stumbled over something, nearly falling against the wall and found Siobhan’s high heels laying over the entry way where she had kicked them off upon returning home. Perhaps she had left the front door open when she came in at night after the show? Brock had been in bed, dead to the world when she got in; it was entirely possible that it was just a simple mistake. Siobhan seemed to have it all together, sophisticated, elegant and incredibly talented, but in private, she was a carefree spirit just as Brock was, sharing her fair share of silly moments with him. They were a perfect pair and loved one another implicitly. Grabbing hold of Siobhan’s shoes, he walked over to the door, ready to pull it shut when he heard rapid footsteps moving away from the apartment. The door which led to the roof at the end of the hall slammed shut with a thundering thud. Someone had been lurking outside. Cursing underneath his breath, Brock dropped the shoes and sprinted as fast as his bare feet could take him to the door before it shut. By the time he reached it, there was only a one inch gap which he managed to get his fingers in and swing it open. He immediately stuck his head inside and looked up the stairwell, catching a glimpse of a figure moving away from him and up to the roof. “Hey you, stop!” Brock yelled to him. His voice echoed loudly in the stairwell and made his head hurt even worse than before, but the other man kept going, completely ignoring him.

Brock started up the steps, taking them two at a time, feeling the cold concrete pounding against the heels of his feet, wet with the residual humidity of the weather outside. A few feet ahead of him, he heard the door to the roof slam shut and felt a gust of cool morning air wash in from above. There was no real reason for Brock to be chasing this person, he knew that nothing had been taken from their apartment, but he felt the need to pursue the man and find out why he had invaded their home. Brock couldn’t go back to Siobhan and tell her that there was a stranger possibly lurking in their home, she would be scared out of her mind, and never feel safe again. So he had to catch this person to get answers, and by the time his foot hit the top step, Brock knew that the person had nowhere to go. The roof had no other exits or places to run to.

Throwing open the door, the wind caught Brock’s sandy colored hair as the rain tapered off to a fine mist that sprinkled down on his face. It felt cool and refreshing. The city lights on the horizon flickered on and off as dawn approached, signaling the end of the night and welcoming a new day. It would have been a peaceful and serene moment as the sun rose over the horizon, if it wasn’t for the fact that the man who had infiltrated Brock and Siobhan’s apartment was standing right in front of Brock. Dressed in black jeans and a form fitting black jacket, he looked casual as fuck and extremely relaxed. He was turned away, his back facing Brock and was looking over the edge of the building casually smoking a cigarette.

Deciding it was best not to jump right into a heated confrontation, Brock chose his words carefully. “Can I ask what you are doing up here?” He said calmly.

The man flicked some ash down over the side of the building, but did not turn around. “Enjoying the view, and waiting for you. I knew I wouldn’t have to wait very long, since we’ve been through all of this before.”

“I don’t know who you are, and I am pretty sure we’ve never met before.” Brock replied. He knew that he should be ready to spring on this man, throttling him to get answers if he had to, but for some odd reason, he felt unusually at ease and calm. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone in his voice that reassured him that he was harmless, or the fact that he didn’t make any attempt at escape, Brock just knew that he was safe, at least for the moment. “I do know that you were in my apartment earlier. How did you get in and what were you doing there?”

Taking a long drag off the cigarette, the man held the smoke in for a long time before finally exhaling. The mist wafted up around him and hung there for a moment before disappearing into the air. “You do know who I am, you just don’t remember me. That’s the power of the Shepherd. He can bring you back to life, and give you a fantastic new one where everything is right… make you forget about all the pain, all the sorrow that you’ve ever experienced. It’s the ultimate in fantasy reality, but it comes with a high price. When all the terrible stuff goes away, so does all the good stuff; the happy times that you thought were so joyful that you swore you’d never forget them, people that you once knew… and loved… all gone. Poof, just like that, it all gets erased and reset. He gives you everything, and takes it away at the same time. What a terrible burden to have as a power.” Pausing for a moment, he took another drag off the cigarette and then crushed it out on the stone wall with slender, bony fingers. “What do you suppose the price was that he had to pay, what sacrifice did he make for all of you?”

Picking up a note of sadness in the man’s voice, Brock moved a little closer. His first guess was that the man was mentally ill.. His heart went out to the lost soul in front of him, and he knew that he had to find a way to get him help. Brock’s hand went down to his pocket to reach for his cell phone, when he realized that he didn’t grab it. Leaving the apartment in such a rush, he was, in fact, only wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. “I am sorry, I don’t exactly follow you… your words are confusing. Why don’t you come back downstairs with me, we can go to the lobby and call someone to come pick you up. There are doctors who can help you sort things out. You are probably so overwhelmed that something snapped. It’s alright, we all go through it.”

“I get ahead of myself.” The man said, ignoring Brock’s kind offer. He flicked his dead cigarette over the edge and rested his hands on stone rail of the rooftop. A few pebbles broke free of the mortar and fell down around his feet. Brock could see that he was wearing worn out black combat boots, aged and distressed, barely laced up at all. His entire wardrobe was threadbare and hung on him loosely. “To answer your previous questions and to soothe your nerves, I did not break into your apartment Brock, I was let in, invited. And as far as why I was there, well… I think that you need to ask yourself that question.”

Brock cocked his head to the side. He didn't feel like playing games with the man, but decided it was best to go along with him. “Who invited you?”

The man turned around and Brock felt his head throb painfully. The headache was getting worse. “You did.” The wind stopped dead. There were no singing birds, no sound from the traffic down below, just silence. He walked over to Brock, whose eyes remained fixed on the tall man in front of him. For the first time he could see how deep and beautiful they were a light greyish green, like the color of the ocean after a storm. His skin was pale, but perfect and flawless, seemingly made of fine porcelain, stretched over strong protruding cheeks. Warm, pink lips smiled at him as he closed in the distance, coming to a stop directly in front of the motionless and awestruck Brock, who stood mesmerized by the man’s presence, although he could not figure out why. At that moment, he felt like he was a rabbit being stared down by a hungry fox.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Brock spoke very quietly through clenched teeth as his hands began to shake. Something was taking over him. “Please don’t touch me.”

A smile crept over the man’s lips, but Brock didn’t see that. He leaned forward, bowing down slightly his lips brushing lightly over the tips of the hair just above Brock’s ear. “Now why would you think I would do that? Why would you say that to me? What makes you believe that the intruder who slipped into your home while you were unconscious and watched you sleep would want to physically harm you? If that were the case, I could have killed you while you slept. Slitting your throat would have been the easiest thing in the world to do.” The man stopped and moved back, as Brock took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Unless, it’s something else that you are afraid of… the other kind of physical contact that people share with one another. Tell me what you are feeling, Brock. Share with me your thoughts.”

Shivering in clothes damp from the rainy mist, Brock struggled to find the words because he didn’t know what he was feeling. Everything felt so surreal. He knew that he should have been upset, and angry with this man, a stranger who had invaded his home, but there was something stopping him from feeling these emotions. Instead of suspicion and confusion, Brock was feeling drawn in and intoxicated by his presence, although there was no real reason for it. He did not know this man, he had never seen him before and he certainly did not invite him into his home. Trembling, Brock turned away from him and started back towards the door. He was finished with this strange confrontation, the pounding in his head persisted, becoming more and more painful as he felt his heart start to beat faster. This wasn’t normal at all.

“Brock.” The man’s voice carried out over the rooftop. “Whether you are aware of it or not, you called me here. You’ve been calling to me nearly every single night, not with your words and thoughts but with your heart. Your soul longs for me, because it belongs to me. The Shepherd took you away from me, ripped you from my arms and put you here. He cloaked you in a new life of blissful solace and made you forget about the other one to punish me. You don’t belong here… you don’t belong with her, and you know it.”

The pain in Brock’s head spread outward, creating a buzzing in his ears that made him feel dizzy. As he listened to the man’s words, he struggled to understand them. Reaching out for the door handle, Brock became lightheaded, and his steps faltered. He wanted to go lie down and make the feeling go away. Taking another step, the world pitched and he felt down to the gravel which covered the surface of the rooftop, landing on all fours. Broken bits of gravel bit deeply into the palms of his hands. He could hear the man’s footsteps walking over to him. The pain in his head was almost unbearable.

“Tell me what you are feeling, Brock.” The man said as he knelt down beside him.

Tears streamed down Brock’s cheeks. “My head, it hurts so bad. I want it to stop.”

“The Shepherd is doing this to you. He’s losing his power and the world he created is collapsing in on itself. His grief is becoming his undoing; it consumes him from the inside and devours him like a cancer.” The man tilted his head to the side and gazed at Brock with sadness. “I hate to see you suffering, but until you make a choice and decide which side to be on, this pain will come to you every single night. He's doing this to you to stop you from being with me. Call it a warning, if you want.”

Brock pushed himself back up to his knees, gasping for breath. His head felt like it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. “I don’t…. understand… any of this… I need to get back to Siobhan.” Struggling to his feet, Brock stood up, using the side of the wall for support. “None of this is real. You’re not real.” Glaring at the man, he turned away from him again and started to open the door, when suddenly, he felt cold fingers grab hold of his shoulder and spin him around. “I told you not to touch me!” Brock shouted, forcing the man’s hand away from him.

The man’s eyes flashed with rage and he took hold of the much smaller Brock and slammed him hard up against the concrete wall. The force of the impact momentarily dazed him, and his vision blurred even worse than before. Holding him in place with one hand, the man reached up and grabbed hold of a handful of hair with the other, forcing his head back. “If you won’t make the choice to save your own fucking life, then I will do it for you.” He snarled. Pressing himself forcefully against Brock, the man shoved his head to the side and placed his lips on Brock’s exposed neck, kissing him roughly. Trying to catch his breath, Brock didn’t even feel the touch, but instead his entire body felt like it was on fire, being consumed by searing hot flames that licked at his skin and scorched his flesh. Droplets of sweat built up on his face and dripped down over his nose, while his lungs closed up, making it impossible to breathe. Gasping for breath, Brock ceased struggling and went limp in the man’s arms. Feeling his body give way, the man released him and let him slip down the concrete wall to the ground, where he slumped over, like a rag-doll, his clothing drenched in sweat and barely breathing. Kneeling down, the man loomed closer to him, whispering. “You are starting to remember now, you can feel those last moments of your old life, right before they slipped away…but there’s more than just the pain, look beyond it.” He reached forward and let his hand slide underneath the t-shirt that was plastered to Brock’s sweaty chest. His fingers lightly ran over his nipples, teasing light touches that felt like electric shocks jolting his body. Brock clenched his teeth tightly, and closed his eyes. He was too weak to do anything now except submit to this stranger’s will. “Remember how you felt, when you let yourself go and became mine? The feeling of utter and absolute desire washing over you like a cool ocean wave, drowning you in the ecstasy is still there, buried underneath all the false reality the Shepherd forced you to accept. Give into it again and remember Brock.” Moving his hands down, the stranger took hold of Brock’s hips and slid his nearly lifeless body down onto the gravel. Brock let out a small moan and tried feebly to push him away. He didn’t know what was happening to him or what was wrong with him. He did know that he had to leave, run away and get as far as he could from this person, everything about this encounter was wrong.

Trying to push himself back up into a sitting position, Brock whimpered. “No. Get off me.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears, as the man’s slender fingers found the elastic waistband of Brock’s boxers and started to tug on them. The fabric slid down over his hip bones and down to mid-thigh, leaving him exposed to the predator. The mist like rain from overhead started to intensify now, and turned into cold droplets that pounded against his skin with tremendous force as the thunder rolled in from above, covering everything in darkness. It started to bring him around. Pushing himself up to his elbows, Brock looked down at the wrong time and his eyes locked onto the gray green ones of his assailant. The lightning flashed at that moment, illuminating those dark orbs and giving them a haunting amber color that reflected Brock’s own terrified expression. The man pushed Brock back down and pulled himself up over his sweat soaked body. His hand draped down to between his legs and he let his fingers dance along the inside of Brock’s thighs. “He’s trying to save you, but I won’t let him. You’re mine, and I will stop at nothing to bring you back to the place where you belong.” The stranger lunged forward and forced his lips onto Brock’s lips, while his fingers took hold of his cock and gave it a squeeze. Struggling against the man, Brock fought with every bit of strength that he had in him. When their lips met, there was something vaguely familiar about the way that the man tasted, and even though it was forced, Brock found himself enjoying his touch, and almost wanting more of it. The skies opened up now, pouring down around them, and Brock ceased his struggles. The man devoured him, sliding his silky smooth lips along Brock’s, breathing in the breath from his lungs and tasting the salty sweat which hung over his skin like a shroud. Feeling Brock start to respond to his touch, the man ran his fingers over the length of Brock’s shaft now, teasing him with light touches, and pulled his lips away for a moment. “Brock. Rip away the veil from your false life. Abandon all that you think is real and come back to me. I can give you this and so much more, all you have to do is reach out and take it. The wall is already starting to crack in so many places. It won’t take much before it all falls apart. You won’t be blamed. I will keep you safe, I promise… just take what is yours.”

Looking up at the man, Brock pushed the rain soaked hair out of his eyes. The man perched on top of him, touching him, caressing him was a stranger, but he felt like he had known him all his life. The way that he felt, the way that the man spoke was completely consuming and mesmerizing. His voice filled Brock’s head with fog, filling it to the very edge of his skull and forcing all his rational, conscious thoughts out, and replacing them with nothing short of ecstasy. The entire experience seemed so euphoric that he didn’t want it to stop. For some reason, he knew that he needed this person. His touches were intoxicating, drawing Brock into a strange addition that he could not escape from. Sitting back slightly, Brock looked to the man and slowly raised his trembling hand. He wanted to touch the smooth skin of his cheek, feel the intensity of the rain water washing over that perfect flesh underneath his fingertips. The man smiled at him and nodded, taking hold of Brock a bit tighter as if to reassure him. Brock’s lips parted and he whimpered at the commanding touch. Far overhead there was an intense roll of thunder which boomed loudly around them. Something on the edge of the roof caught Brock’s attention. Moments away from touching the man’s face, Brock stopped and drew back, his eyes widened, catching sight of something on the stone rail which landed directly in front of him. Pieces of concrete broke loose and trickled down onto the rooftop as tall lace up boots perched on the crumbling stone. A dark shape loomed there, human like, but with enormous black wings. In his hand, he held a silver scythe, with a bright red ribbon tied onto it. He brought it down and it sang as it sliced through the wind and rain, making a horrid sound that was not unlike a person in agony. Brock’s jaw dropped open, trapped in a silent scream but all the air was sucked out of his lungs. His body trembled and shook with fear at the sight. The stranger saw the look in Brock’s eyes and snarled, dropping his head a little. He did not need to turn around to know the dark figure was behind him, he could simply feel is presence. “No! You’ve taken enough souls, this one is mine.”

A wave of revulsion washed over Brock as he suddenly awakened to his situation, the spell broken, the moment gone. He snapped out of his stupor and pushed himself away from the man, scrambling in the dirt and rocks. “Get the hell away from me!” He shouted. Straightening up his clothing, Brock backed up as far as he could, trying to stand, but he found that his feet would no longer support him. His back hit against the stone wall and he discovered that he had nowhere to run. Rain poured down into his eyes, stinging them and making it hard to see.

The figure behind the man stood motionless, water dripping off its wings. The man didn’t turn around to face him, but instead sat up, resting on the back of his heels, his eyes locked onto Brock. “He’s not going to save you Brock. If anything, he will give you a death much worse than I ever could. He’s not your savior.” A flash of thunder illuminated the rooftop again, as the man stood up and started moving forward, stalking Brock again. His lips cracked a vicious, evil grin. “If you want to believe in something, then believe that I am the one who wants you... You will fear and love me. You will have no other choice, because this is what I was born to be.” The man gestured back towards the perched figure. “He’s powerless here, a mere shadow of his former self… lies and deception… a false god… but I… I am here to save you Brock, even if that means by force, you will be mine again. I will stop at nothing.”

In a panic, Brock searched around desperately, trying to find something to defend himself against the man who was fast approaching him. He looked up, past him to the dark, cloaked figure watching the scene unfold, his eyes begging for help, but he remained motionless. The wind intensified now, loosening several black pin feathers from his wings and sending them into the air surrounding the imposing figure. Brock watched them flutter across the rooftop turning over again and again, only to land a few inches away from him onto the ground. Then he saw it. A broken, rusty pipe laying in a puddle of water. Immediately, he sprang into action, grabbing it and swinging with such force that he thought his shoulders would pop out of their sockets. The man lunged forward, trying to avoid getting hit with the weapon, but he misjudged and soon the rusty bit of metal caught the side of his face, smashing into his skull and sending his body down onto the ground. His form splashed and rolled onto the hard concrete with an audible thump, where it remained without any signs of movement. Curling his fingers around the pipe, Brock once again wiped the water from his eyes and managed to pull himself to his feet. Taking a few careful steps, he stood there, unsure of what to do when he saw the head of the cloaked figure standing on the rail turn toward him. The red ribbon attached to the scythe fluttered loudly in the wind; a bright streak of crimson against an otherwise dark sky. Brock knew that he had to leave now. It was his only chance to escape this nightmarish scene. The figure gave off a looming presence that felt like death itself and he didn’t want to fuck with it. He had to get back to Siobhan now.

Turning his back on the dark shape, and the motionless stranger laying still on the ground, Brock made his way to the door which led back into the stairwell. The rain which had awoken him had washed all the sweat and fever from his body, but now felt cold and harsh, and he knew he had to get inside to get warmed up as soon as possible. Feeling violated and ashamed of what he let happen, he had to get the scent of this man off his skin, or else he'd go insane. He couldn’t even begin to explain what happened here in the small hours of the morning, there was no way possible of even trying to rationalize any of it. He hated himself for letting the stranger get close enough to him to sexually assault him in the worst way possible, but more so, he absolutely could not stand the fact that this man… this unknown person had gotten inside of his head and changed the way he was thinking with just a few simple words. Brock always gave people the benefit of the doubt, and saw good in everyone, but this man did something that rattled his brain and clouded his thoughts. Perhaps it was the series of insane storms that crept up unexpectedly in different parts of the country all at once. They came out of nowhere, on a normally calm and sunny day, forcing the sun away and blanketing everything in a haze of darkness, leaving destruction in their wake. No one could explain the phenomenon; it was a complete mystery.

Brock reached out and put his fingers on the handle of the door which led back inside. He paused to look back over his shoulder and could just barely see the shape of the man who assaulted him lying in a puddle, partially submerged in the dirty rainwater. Sighing to himself, Brock turned around. Even though the man did unspeakable things to him, Brock couldn’t walk away. He had severely injured him with the blow to the head, and was aware that he might be dying, and no one deserved to go like that. Turning around, Brock’s eyes went over to the rail first, and he could see that the mysterious winged figure was gone with no trace left behind. Silently, he wondered to himself if it was even there in the first place, or perhaps a hallucination of some sort. Either way, he was gone now, and had apparently taken the storm with him, as the rain eased off and the sunlight was starting to peek through the clouds. Looking down at the injured man a few feet away from him, Brock was filled with sympathy. The man had taken complete control of Brock’s mind and body, and threatened his very life, but he still wanted to help him. Leaving him alone on the rooftop would be a mistake. With still bare feet, Brock made his way over to the man and placed a hand on his neck. His breathing was faint and shallow, but at least he was still alive. Pushing him over onto his back, Brock could see the jagged edge of the wound on his head which was still oozing blood. A tranquil look was set upon his face, and if it wasn’t for the bright red spatters that stained his cheeks, he could almost be sleeping peacefully, and no one would know the insanity that raged inside of him. 

Feeling Brock’s fingers touching him, the man’s eyes fluttered open. He looked up at Brock with a slightly sad expression on his face. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He gave you all new, wonderful lives, changed everything for you all, but did nothing for me but poison my head and fill me with hatred. I waited so long for you, I could feel the Shepherd’s power starting to wane, and I knew that someday I’d be able to see you again, there would be a way… but it went all wrong. He deceived me, and if you don’t stop him, he will deceive you and all the others too. I really didn't want it to be like this... I want a second chance too.”

Shivering in the cold, Brock faced the man without fear. “Why… why did you do that to me?”

“Because Brock, I need to awaken you… the real you… the one from Prox. I had hoped that by exposing you to that which you desired the most, it would trigger the memories from the past and you’d understand.” The man gingerly touched the gaping wound on the side of his head, his fingers came away bloody and he stared at the glistening red stains for a moment. “You started to see it, you felt it, I know that you did, but it was only for one moment, then it was gone, it slipped away like smoke on the air. The memories are buried too deep, as are the feelings that we shared. I didn’t assault you out of rage or spite, but because I…” He stopped and flicked the blood off his fingertips. “Well it doesn't really matter now, does it? The Shepherd fulfilled his prophecy well.”

“You need help, and I can get it for you, but I am going to need to trust you here that you won’t do anything to put anyone in danger? Okay?” Brock said calmly. He had stopped listening to the man’s ranting now, and was only concerned about getting him downstairs and calling the police. Let them handle this lunatic.

The man sat up and started to laugh. His shoulders shook with amusement. “You can’t help me Brock. This is how he wants me to be seen, this is my fate in life now… I don’t get another go around like everyone else… So I guess I have to play the part that I was given, there is no other choice.” His head turned slowly, his demeanor changing, and those gray green eyes locked on to Brock. “But I can help you, by taking away all that he has done to you, free you from this fantasy.” The man’s mud covered hand shot out and wrapped around Brock’s neck, squeezing it tightly. Brock gasped for breath and tried to pry his fingers loose, but he held on too tightly. With a quick jerk of his arm, the man brought Brock close to him and gave him a hard kiss on the lips. Brock winced and struggled. All the feelings from earlier when they had kissed were gone now, replaced by revulsion. “Remember me.” The man whispered, his breath hot on Brock’s cheek. A evil smile played across his face as he pulled his arm back and threw Brock’s small body across the rooftop with such force that it only stopped when it collided with the stone rail. As he tried to get up to run away, the man sprinted across the distance and kicked him in the ribs with a booted foot, sending him back down onto the gravel. Ignoring the pain and pushing himself onto his back, Brock saw the man lower himself down onto him; spreading his legs and putting his full weight on his hips. He was now trapped underneath the muscular, well-built man, a helpless victim.

Cursing and shouting, Brock swung his fists at the man, but he was too fast, and caught his arms in midair, forcing them down onto the ground with one hand and pinning them down over his head. His fingers tightened and Brock could feel the bones in his wrists start to snap and break. A sudden, sad thought crossed his head that he would never get to play guitar again. Before Justin died, he promised him that he would never stop playing, that music was his life and without it he would die. Justin’s memory would go on forever in the songs that he would play. Now, months later, Brock was certain that he was going to die, and he regretted the fact that he had not played a single note since his death.

Using his free hand, the man took hold of the front of Brock’s shirt and pulled down rapidly, ripping and shredding the fabric to pieces. With a vicious sneer on his face, he wasted no time before parting his perfect lips and sucking in the tender flesh of Brock’s nipple. Crying out in agony as the man’s teeth grated his skin, Brock desperately struggled to free himself. The weight of the man on top of him was massive and completely encompassing, but he refused to lay down and let the man have his way with him again, because he knew that this time, he would end up dead. His mind scrambling, Brock tried to devise a way out of the situation, and shut out the experience he was going through. This wasn’t like before when his mind was clouded and he could slip into the oblivion of pleasure that this stranger was putting his body through. Instead, it was painful and terrifying; his heart beating rapidly and panic flowing through him. The man’s free hand moved down Brock’s body as it did before, but this time he arched his nails and dragged them down the front of his chest, leaving red angry welts behind. He roughly pushed Brock’s legs apart and settled in between them. Knowing what the man was intending on doing now, Brock shouted to him, “Get the hell off of me, you sick fuck!” and thrust his hips forward, meaning to throw the man off.

Startled by Brock’s uncharacteristic profanities, the man momentarily loosened his grip on his wrists, giving Brock the opportunity to form a tight fist and slam it right into his jaw. Stunned for a moment, the man retaliated and returned the assault with a slamming punch of his own, which connected directly with Brock’s nose, sending a spray of blood streaming down his face. Angered and past the point of kindness, Brock let out a loud scream and started kicking and punching with great ferocity, not quite knowing if he was connecting or not, but desperate to get the man off of him. High above the sun broke through the clouds, and the first rays of daylight beamed down upon the two men locked in combat on the roof. Brock’s hands were hurting, his knuckles were split open and he could taste the blood from his broken nose streaming down his face and collecting on his lips. He didn’t care, he wanted to free himself from this man. Finally, after a few moments, he stopped, exhausted and realized that the man wasn’t fighting back anymore. He still remained perched over Brock’s body, straddling him, but he knew that he could slip away at any time. Confused, Brock stared up at him and saw the bloody mess that his face was. The man noticed he was looking at him and smiled, revealing a mouth full of blood stained teeth. “What is wrong with you? Why are you laughing? Is this a joke to you?” Brock asked.

The man casually chuckled as the grin faded from his split lips. “I am happy because I’ve accomplished what I came here to do.” He reached down and ran a bloody finger over Brock’s cheek. “You are nearly there, it won’t be long now. You have become what you fear… and love the most.” The man lunched forward, reaching for Brock’s neck one final time, but his fingers never made it to their destination. Letting out a cry, Brock pulled his arm back and slammed his fist directly into the man’s face. He felt tissue rip and tear underneath his knuckles, sending the man pitching backward, thrown off balance. Springing on him with lightning fast speed and a ferocity in his eyes, Brock grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it, listening for the satisfying snap of bone and scream of pain emanating from those beautiful lips that had assaulted his own only moments earlier. He felt a pop, and the man’s body fell away onto the ground once again.

Closing his eyes, Brock screamed. He expected to hear his voice echoing off the buildings around him on the empty rooftop, but strangely enough he didn’t, but instead it was muffled and confined, as if he was in a small space. Then he felt hands on his arms, holding him down and he started to panic. Thrashing about, he scrambled backwards, trying to get free from whatever was now assaulting him. A voice called to him. “Brock! Brock!” Something touched him and he pushed it away, his muscles crying out in fatigue. There was a loud thump and a scream. Opening his eyes, Brock looked around in confusion and saw that he was back in his apartment, in his own bed. He had no idea how he had gone back downstairs. His head was throbbing, worse than ever before, and as he put his hand up to it, he noticed bloodstains on his fingertips. Blood trickled down from his nose, and dripped onto the white satin bed sheets. Using the back of his arm, he quickly wiped it away, waiting for the pain to come from the vicious assault, but there was nothing. It was a simple nosebleed, brought on from the migraine headache he was experiencing. Holding his head in his hands, he leaned forward, crossed legged on the bed and let the blood continue to drip down out of his nose. Somehow, it made him feel a little bit better. Then he heard the small voice again calling to him, only this time it was weaker and filled with pain. “Brock… are you okay?”

Siobhan. Not seeing her, Brock pulled the sheets off and scrambled off the bed making his way over to the door, when he nearly tripped and fell. Disorientated and not quite awake from his vivid dream yet, Brock looked down at his feet to see Siobhan laying there in her nightgown, holding her arm against her chest. There were light blue bruises forming around her bare arms and legs and she appeared to have been badly beaten. He immediately dropped down to his knees at her side. “Siobhan, what happened, tell me what happened to you! Who did this?” Brock gingerly touched the arm she was supporting, and could feel the shattered bones shifting and moving inside, her fingertips were already turning blue. It was broken in several places. She winced and slightly pulled away from him. Brock’s stomach twisted in knots and he dropped the rest of the way down to the floor. “No.” he muttered. “No no no no.” He repeated over and over. “Tell me who did this!”

Tears filled Siobhan’s eyes as she looked at him and saw the shock and horror there. She didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t do that, she knew that she had to tell him the truth, but her words were going to crush him. “Brock… I want you to know that this isn’t your fault… you were having some sort of seizure. It was pretty bad, the worst I’ve ever seen. Your eyes were open and you looked like you were awake, but I knew you were dreaming. You kept screaming and shouting, and I tried to wake you up, but I couldn’t. It was terrible. I couldn’t imagine what you were dreaming about. Then it looked like you stopped breathing. I panicked and tried to shake you awake, but… you’re a bit stronger than me…and I got in the way.” Siobhan tried to smile, but the pain was too great and she ended up whimpering instead.

Brock swallowed hard. “All these bruises, your arm… I did this? You are telling me that I am the one that hurt you?” He kept his hand on her, not willing to let go. He shook his head in disbelief; his eyes going from bruise to bruise that marred her beautiful body. Even now, as she sat on the floor, her body bent in an awkward position that made her look like a doll thrown carelessly in a corner, more welts were starting to form on her inner thighs spreading up her legs, and Brock found it hard to take in, knowing that his hands did the damage. He looked away from her for a moment. “Siobhan… did I…” He stopped, and pulled his eyes away from the awful marks. He couldn’t speak the words that would ask the question he didn’t want the answer for. 

Siobhan saw where Brock was looking and quickly pulled down the edges of her nightgown, hiding the remnants of the violence inflicted on her body. The expression on her face changed to one of pity. Reaching out, she gently laid her hand alongside of his cheek, but Brock drew away from her. He was hurting even more than she was. “I just… got in the way. I had to try and help you; I couldn’t let you suffer like that. If only you could have seen what I did, you’d try and intervene too.” Stroking her fingers across his face, Siobhan tried her best to comfort Brock. “Love… look at me.. please. I need to see your face.” Slowly turning toward her, she saw that Brock was now crying as well. “You couldn’t ever hurt me, I know this. And no, these bruises didn’t come from you forcing yourself on me, I lost my balance trying to avoid getting hit and ended up falling onto the floor. You know how much of a klutz I can be. Even walking across the stage at night taking my position in the orchestra in high heels is a risky job hazard for me. One of these days I am going to end up falling into the pit and getting stuck in a tuba.” Siobhan joked. It was her attempt at making Brock feel a little better and put him at ease. He smiled at her and she wiped his tears away. “I know I haven’t mentioned it before, but this is the fourth time this week that you’ve had an episode, and they’ve been getting worse every time. I thought that you’d remember them in the morning, but now I see that you really have no control over what happens….I don’t know how to help you anymore. I think you need to go see a doctor.”

Brock felt sick to his stomach. She was right, he didn’t remember anything except for her screams. He took a breath and tried to pull himself together. He couldn't bare to see her sitting there in pain any longer. “We will talk about that later, right now you are the one who needs a doctor.” He stood up and grabbed her robe, gently wrapping it around her shoulders. “Can you walk? Or should I call an ambulance?”

Siobhan’s eyes widened and she grasped hold of Brock’s shirt with her good arm. “Please don’t make me go to the hospital. You know that they are going to ask questions… oh Brock, if I tell them that you did this…” She lowered her head and started to cry.

Moving down in front of her, Brock gently guided her into his arms and ran his fingers through her hair as she sobbed. “You have to go, your arm is broken. I’ll deal with the doctors and all the questions Siobhan. Be honest with them and tell them exactly what happened. It’s the only way to be sure that you are given the best care. Don't worry about me.”

Shaking her head, she leaned on him for support. “I don’t want you getting in trouble. They will take you away for questioning; accuse you of domestic abuse..no… I need to stay by you.” Siobhan’s voice quivered a bit as she spoke, her attempts at hiding the pain she was in failing miserably.

“I am never going to leave you; I will be right by your side, okay? This is my fault; I will take care of you. I am not discussing this anymore. We are going.” Slipping his hands underneath her arms, Brock helped Siobhan to her feet, and he noticed the bright red stains that his fingerprints left on her robe. Reaching up with her good hand, she gently wiped away a few traces of blood that remained on Brock’s face and smiled at him, expecting him to return the smile, but Brock's face remained serious and stoic. She knew that he was slipping away from her, back into his world of depression and grief.

Seeing the sheer sadness in his eyes, Siobhan tried to stay positive. “Promise me that you will talk to a doctor about these night terrors when we get there. Get some help.” Brock nodded to her and gently guided her out of the apartment and down the stairs to his waiting car. They drove to the hospital in silence, Siobhan in pain and trying her best not to let on how agonizing the ride was, and Brock, ridden with guilt for hurting her kept hearing her screams echoing over and over in his head. It was a sound that he would remember for the rest of his life. As the car skidded down the streets in the early morning hours, the sun beamed down and burnt away all traces of the night, and last remnants of Brock’s dream too.

Arriving at the hospital, Brock led Siobhan inside where they were met by a nurse who quickly ushered them both into a private room. Holding onto her hand, Brock watched as they made her as comfortable as possible while the proper paperwork for the x-rays was being completed. Siobhan was friendly and very patient with the staff, and even though she was in extreme amounts of pain from her shattered arm, she laughed and joked with them all, reassuring everyone that the injury wasn’t a big deal. She downplayed the truth a bit, explaining that Brock had a nightmare and accidentally pushed her out of bed, where she fell onto the floor and slammed her arm against the night stand. Everyone all believed it and noted on her calm demeanor, all except for Brock. He knew the truth, he knew that it was his hands that struck her, and it was his rage that broke her bones. The proof was painted in black and blue all over her skin. The feeling made him sick inside.

As the staff administered pain medication and made her as comfortable as possible, Brock paced around the room nervously, trying to avoid looking at the twisted mass of flesh that was his girlfriend’s wrist and arm. Deep down inside, he knew that Siobhan was devastated. Playing music was her life, and she was constantly performing with symphony orchestras or going to schools to educate children on the importance of music. Now this was at an end and it was all Brock’s fault. He couldn’t deal with knowing the fact that one careless mistake could be the end of her career.

After some time had passed and all the insurance forms were filled out, the staff left the room for a short while, assuring both Brock and Siobhan that they would be back as soon as the X-ray room was available. Brock made his way over to the window and pulled up a chair to sit by it. Across the room, on the bed, Siobhan sighed. “You are too far away over there Brock, why don’t you come sit with me? There’s lots of room here on the bed, and you don’t have to worry about hurting me, the nurses gave me a ton of painkillers and my arm even has its own pile of pillows.” She patted the mattress. “Come sit.”

Brock frowned. “What if I hurt you again?”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “Alright stop with that right now. I told you, it was an accident, nothing more. You were dreaming and not in control of your own body. There is no way you could have known what you were doing, we established that already. Brock, love… please don’t take this to heart. I will be okay. I’m more worried about you.”

Frowning, Brock sat back in his chair. His mind went back to the last few hours before he went to sleep, trying to recall even a small portion of the dream, but nothing came and it frustrated him. “I don’t remember any of it, not falling asleep, not the dream, not even hurting you… The only thing I can recall is waking up, hearing you calling my name and then this intense pressure inside of my head, like someone was trying to split my skull open with a sledge hammer or something…and then your screams… As long as I am alive, I will remember exactly how they sounded. No one should ever scream like that. I’ve made you experience something so horrific and cruel, that I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to walk away and leave me. All I can focus on now is what I have done to you… I never hurt anyone in my life, Siobhan… I feel so damn guilty. I hate myself.”

Adjusting the pillows under her arm, Siobhan gave Brock a sympathetic look. The drugs that the nurse had given her were starting to take effect and she felt a little drowsy, but she refused to close her eyes. She couldn’t sleep while Brock was feeling this way and tearing himself apart over it. “Don’t say such things! I would never push you away! There’s no need to feel guilty or place blame on yourself. Whatever is happening to you is a medical condition. Lots of people have night terrors, Brock. They can be cured with therapy or even drugs. You can overcome this, just like anything else, and we can get on with our lives. I know that you can. Please don’t make this change the person that you are.”

“Something else is wrong with me Siobhan. This is more than just a series of bad dreams. I feel like something is hunting me from the inside… it’s waiting for me to close my eyes so that it can snatch me away from my own consciousness and mess with my head while I am asleep.” Brock leaned forward in his chair. “That moment when I hurt you… in my dream, that wasn’t you, it was someone else, I… think. The hatred in me was so great, I just wanted to reach out and snap this person’s neck. Never in my life have I ever felt this way about anyone.” Brock’s hands began to shake. “That’s the only thing I remember… that terrible desire to kill… Siobhan, what happens if the next time you can’t wake me up? What if I am stuck in these night terrors or whatever they are and I end up doing something worse than breaking your arm? I don’t think I can live with myself knowing that I am putting you in danger.”

“And I can’t live without you, Brock.” Siobhan started to feel the tightness in her chest again, and tears well up in her eyes. She knew that she was going to start crying. “You’ve come so far since I first met you, sitting out there in that parking lot in the bitter cold all alone. I knew that you were hurting. I didn’t just sit down in the snow and ice with you because you needed someone; I sat with you because I needed someone too…and you became my lifeline.”

Standing up from his chair, Brock walked over and sat down on the foot of the bed. His eyes were all red and puffy, ringed with blueish circles. “But… your music… that arm is shattered; I felt the bones inside move. It’s going to take a long time to heal. You’re not going to be able to do the things that you love, and that’s all on me. I am the reason you are lying in that bed right now, I broke more than your bones, I feel like I broke your heart too. I betrayed your trust in me, and that hurts worse than anything else.”

Reaching out, Siobhan motioned for Brock to come closer. He hesitated, but she smiled at him and he couldn’t resist. He joined her on the bed, stretching out and lying next to her. Taking a deep breath, she leaned up against him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “Brock… you are the thing that I love. Sure, music is important to me, but not nearly as important as you are. Whenever I felt sad or lonely before, all I had to do was turn on the radio or pick up my violin and start to play, and it would take me away to a place where nothing could ever hurt me. When I put my headphones on, and turned the volume up, everything melted away and I was alone in a place where nothing could ever hurt me. For a while, this was my sanctuary, the place that I ran to when things got bad or I felt overwhelmed. For so many years I used it as my crutch. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly fit in with the rest of the classical musicians that play in the orchestra. At every single one I went to, to audition, I was always the outcast, the one that didn’t look the part or play with the group. When we took a break and went outside for lunch, I could hear them talking about me, and laughing at me just because I was different. That’s what my life used to be.” She buried her fingers in the soft folds of Brock’s t-shirt, ignoring droplets of blood that had dried into it. “But then you came along and everything changed. When I saw you for the first time, I knew you had been crying. It was at that moment when my heart went out to you, and I wanted to let you into mine. I don’t know if it was fate that brought us together or some other higher power, but I found my other half that day, the moment you looked up at me with those beautiful, sad eyes. You changed my life for the better, Brock. No longer did I have to come home to an empty house and turn up the volume on the TV to chase away the demons that ran amuck in my head when I was alone. There’s no peace in that kind of quiet. I needed you there with me to see your goofy, smiling face when I walk through that door at the end of a hard day, making me laugh and being silly with me. These last few months have made me a stronger person, and it’s all because of you. I have never met anyone who is so sincere, so caring and just so good natured like you. Music used to be my escape, and now you are. As long as I have you, I have everything I need.”

Brock laced his fingers tightly together with hers. “So what do we do now?”

Looking down at his slender guitarist fingers, Siobhan noticed how perfectly they fit together. “We will find someone who can help you and make you whole again. We both just need a little time to heal.”

Giving her a tight squeeze, Brock kissed the top of her head. Her long, blond hair smelled like lilac and lavender. “You are one of a kind, I love you, Siobhan.”

Looking up at him, she smiled. “And I love you Brock, don’t you ever forget it.” She said, giving him a teasing wink. “Oh and since I won’t be playing music for a while, I think that you need to step up your game and take over. There are quite a few guitars lined up in the living room that are just waiting to be played. I want you to play every single day for me until I get better… maybe we can think of something clever and do a duet, or even start our own band, what do you think?”

Brock smiled down at her. The feelings of hatred and shame were fading away now, becoming only a lingering memory. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

The door to the room opened up and a nurse came in with a wheelchair. “I have to take Siobhan over to X-ray now, and then into the casting room for her arm to be set, unless it’s surgery, if that’s the case then it’s going to be a while.” She glanced over at Brock. “You have to stay here sir; they don’t allow significant others into radiology.” Pushing the chair over to the bed, she started to help Siobhan up, when Brock stepped between them and helped her stand on her own. The nurse scoffed in annoyance, and Brock and Siobhan exchanged amused glances.

As soon as she settled in, Brock knelt down by the side of the wheelchair, and placed his hand on one of the arms and whispered to her. “Are you going to be okay?”

Siobhan nodded and placed her hand on top of his. “Of course. Everything will be fine; I know I am in good hands here… Don’t worry about me.”

The nurse started to pull the chair away and Brock stood up. “I have to worry about you; you’re the most important thing in my life.”

Turning the wheelchair around, the nurse started to take Siobhan away when Brock called out. “Wait!” Both of the women turned and looked at him. Rushing over to the chair where he had placed Siobhan’s robe, he dipped his hand into the pocket and withdrew her cellphone. Handing it to her, he gave the nurse a challenging stare. “I know that it’s frowned upon for patients to have their phones with them, but I want you to take this with you. I promised you that I wouldn’t leave you alone once we got here, and now since I can’t go with you, this will have to be the next best thing.” He glared at the nurse as Siobhan took it from him. “Is that going to be a problem?” The nurse shrugged and Brock bent down to kiss Siobhan one more time. “Call or text me if you need anything. I will be waiting.”

“Be good, Brock.” She whispered to him as the nurse pulled her away. 

Brock watched as Siobhan was wheeled out of the room and down a long white hallway, disappearing from sight. He ran his hands down his face and felt the flecks of dried blood from the nosebleed still clinging to his skin. It had been an emotionally and physically draining morning. Seeing Siobhan lying on the floor, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks was a memory that he would never forget. It would forever be burned in his mind, and would constantly berate himself over and over, even if she had forgiven him. He was becoming violent and dangerous and he felt that he had to do something about it.

Heading out into the hall, Brock walked, not quite knowing where he was going. His intention was to try and find some information on night terrors, or maybe the name of a doctor who could help him. If he didn’t fix whatever was wrong with his head, he would be forced to be apart from Siobhan, and the thought of that was not acceptable. Wandering around the halls gave him time to clear his mind and try to figure out what he was going to do. The dreams or night terrors were triggered by something, and even though he couldn’t remember them, he knew that they were more than just subconscious thoughts. If something could make him lash out and hurt the one that he loved, then it was dangerous and had to be stopped at all costs.

Fifteen minutes passed with Brock roaming the halls, when eventually he found himself near some offices. It was still early morning, but the area was still remarkably busy, with the night shift finishing up and the day shift coming in. He walked past a set of doors and to the end of the corridor where he found a vending machine that promised a steaming hot cup of coffee to wake him up. Realizing that he had not picked up his wallet on the way out the door, he sighed and stared at the stock photo of the cup of coffee advertised on the side of the machine longingly. There would be no life giving elixir this morning. Just as he moved to turn away, a woman in a lab coat approached him and waved a dollar at him. Confused, Brock stared blankly at her for several long moments, lost in thought.

“I don’t think that I’ve ever seen anyone else in dire need of caffeine as much as you do right now.” She handed the dollar to him. “Here, take this. It looks like you need it.”

Managing a small smile, Brock took the money from her and inserted it into the machine. “Thank you.” he said quietly. “It’s been a long, rough morning.”

The woman leaned against the coffee machine, and Brock could see that she was wearing a doctor’s badge. Her long black hair was piled up loosely on top of her head, with a few tendrils streaming down, framing her face. A pair of black retro glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose. It was obvious that she had just finished the night shift. Watching Brock as he pushed the buttons on the machine and made his selection, she pointed toward the front of his t-shirt, where the stains of dried blood were. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

Brock watched as the cup dropped down from the machine and began to fill up. He didn’t want to get into the details of what happened with a complete stranger, even if she was a doctor; he just wasn’t in the sharing mood. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and gave him a bit of energy. Taking a deep breath he inhaled it in and felt a little better. “My girlfriend, she… fell last night and broke her arm. It was sort of my fault. They just took her away for X-ray and probably a cast or whatever. Sorry if I in the wrong section of the hospital, I was just wandering around and ended up here.” Pulling the cup out of its slot, Brock gripped it tightly. “Anyway, thank you for this. Can I get your information so I can pay you back?”

Shaking her head, the woman stepped away from the machine. “That’s not necessary. I see people come in all the time that have been through traumatic experiences and just need a moment to stop and get it all sorted out. You’d be surprised what a moment alone and a cup of coffee can do for the soul. One dollar isn’t going to bankrupt me, I assure you.” She pushed the glasses back up on top of her nose. Brock noticed that she was staring at him intently, never breaking eye contact. It was almost as if she was looking for something.

Feeling awkward, he took his moment to say his goodbye so he could get back to Siobhan. “Well, thank you again for this. I have to get back now.” Brock mumbled.

“No, no you don’t.” The woman reached out and placed her hand on Brock’s arm. A strange, light headed sensation took over him for a moment, making his heart slow down, and then as quickly as it came, it passed again. “It’s going to be hours before she’s done. Why don’t you come into my office and talk with me? I have this feeling that you are looking for something. I might be able to help you.”

Eyeing her suspiciously, Brock took a step away and looked down the hall in the direction of Siobhan’s room. “I don’t know, it’s sort of… personal.” The hand that was holding the cup of coffee began to shake.

“My husband died a few days ago.” She said softly. “I know that I should be mourning him, but I can’t, not yet. I feel as though he needs me to do something, or help someone. That’s why I came back to work so soon after his death. I knew that there were people here who need me, like you.” Reaching out, Selene Bell took hold of Brock’s trembling hand. “It's not chance that you ended up here.” The moment she touched him, he instantly felt at ease. There was something about her calm way and easy going personality that assured him that she had only his best intentions in mind. After all, she was a doctor. She smiled at him, it seemed like she could almost hear his thoughts. “You came here for a reason. Let me help you, Brock.” She said in a hushed tone.

With wide eyes, he stared at her. “How do you know my name?”

In the small hours of the morning, Thomas Bell slipped out of bed silently. Careful not to wake Lizzie, he moved around the room, gathering up his clothing and ducked out into the hall without a sound. Making his way to the bathroom, he got dressed as quickly as he could and threw some cold water onto his face. He had been asleep since the moment that they got home from the funeral, and felt a little dazed and groggy, but more so angry with himself that he had let the entire day get away from him. Lizzie brought him home and helped him get a shower and then into bed without complaint. Even through his dreamless sleep, he found that he would awaken at times and open his eyes to see her curled up on the bed next to him, hair messy and dress wrinkled, but still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in the world.

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Thomas withdrew the silver key that his mother had given him earlier. Unaware of what it unlocked, he knew that it was something important, and he had to leave as soon as possible to find out the secrets that were gnawing at his brain. Gripping the key tightly, he looked back to the bedroom for a moment, and sighed. All he wanted was for Lizzie to come home, to send at least one night with him so that they could sit and talk things through, but it didn’t turn out quite as he expected. Selene had given Thomas that key for a reason, and that was all he could think about on the way home, but sleep would have to come first. Now, waking up and sneaking away from his wife in the middle of the night was the last thing that he wanted to do, but it had to be done. The secrets that remained hidden in Tristan Bell’s lab were his priority now. They were for Thomas and Thomas alone. He planned on going while she was asleep and coming back before she woke up. In the morning, they could deal with whatever he found there together. 

As he left the house and started the car, part of Thomas screamed at him, telling him to turn around and go back to bed, but he ignored it. He looked up to the two story house with the white picket fence and saw a few of his son’s toys discarded in the lawn, unused and forgotten about for over a year. Sorrow filled him. Tristan’s absence left him with a hole in his heart, one that could not be easily repaired. Whatever was in the lab could potentially have the answers that he was looking for, the reason why his son could not be brought out of his coma, and therefore was the most important thing to do right now.

The miles stretched on for what felt like hours, as Thomas drove in silence. As he neared his mother’s house, he saw that there were no lights on, everything was dark and her motorcycle wasn’t in it’s usual place. Then he remembered the promise that she made to Lizzie that she would spent the night at the hospital with their son. The fact that she wasn’t home on this night made things easier. Pulling the car off the driveway and into a secluded area, Thomas found a place to park it where it could not be easily seen. Quietly slipping out of the car, he picked up his flashlight and headed down the dirt path which led to the lab. Tristan kept his work far away from the main house, and preferred to work alone. Only a few people actually knew the location of the lab, and one misstep off the path in the dark would get you perpetually lost in the woods if you weren’t careful.

After walking for a few minutes, the lab came into view. It was a massive building with no windows to look in or out of. Just a series of ventilation shafts and the front door was all that could be seen. Slipping his hand into his pocket, Thomas withdrew the silver key Selene had given him and approached the door. As the light illuminated the lock, Thomas’s jaw dropped open. It had been smashed and was left hanging by one single screw, barely hanging onto the metal. Shining the light down onto the ground, he found the broken padlock partially covered in fallen leaves. He pulled out the silver key that Selene had given him, and was surprised to find that it didn’t fit. Whatever he was looking for to unlock was inside, but someone else could possibly be in there too. Taking out his cellphone, Thomas hit the button to call Selene, but changed his mind. She was at the hospital with his son, bringing her here would do nothing. Thomas powered his phone down, shutting it off and slipped it back into his pocket.

Before he could mentally psych himself out of it, Thomas pulled the door open and stepped inside. The massive room had high vaulted ceilings that were completely dark, except for a few low power emergency lights around the edges. Taking a few small steps, Thomas found that he was near a long table that was lined with computers that were all shut down and powerless, waiting for a user to come and start them up. His flashlight illuminated a desk, stacked high with notebooks of every shape and size, piled up with hand written notes and diagrams, all penned by Thomas’s father. Walking over to the desk, Thomas reached out and touched the pages, letting his fingers glide over the inked paper. He could feel the indentation of Tristan’s pen as he sketched out ideas, one by one over every single surface of the paper, only moving onto the next page when there was not a single free space left. Turning the pages, Thomas struggled to figure out what his father was working on. It was a jumbled mess of random ideas and theories, none of which were remotely related to one another. As he leafed through the journals, he noticed that the lines got thicker, the ink became darker and the once neat handwriting started to turn into a mindless series of random words. None of it made sense. Tossing the book aside, Thomas grabbed another one and started to browse through it. Frowning, he sighed and picked up a third, then a fourth, and a fifth. All random nonsense. Whatever secrets were held in this lab, they were well hidden and would take a long time to find, time that he didn’t have.

Sitting down at the desk, Thomas ran his fingers through the waves of his hair and sighed. He would have to get back to Lizzie soon, and the lab was too large to search for whatever the key belonged to. “What were you hiding in here, father? What was so important that you wouldn’t even allow Selene to see it?” Pushing the notebooks away, Thomas moved and pushed the chair away from the desk when his eyes fell on the last drawer of the desk which was strangely different than the rest. All of the other drawers were made of the same mahogany wood which matched the desk itself, but the bottom drawer was made of metal, an odd addition to a otherwise antique desk. Kneeling down, he attempted to insert the key into the small keyhole near the top, not expecting it to fit, and much to his surprise, it clicked. The drawer slid out, revealing another notebook, this one larger than the rest, with the word “Prox” scrawled across the top. “Found it!” Thomas smiled, his hands shaking, his fingers poised, ready to pull back the cover and reveal the secrets.

There was a sound far off in the room. Thomas’s head snapped up, and he pointed the flashlight in the direction that it came from. “Whose there?” He called out into the massive, open dark space.

Footsteps approached him. Thomas clutched the book close to his chest. His better judgment told him to drop the book and run, but he stood still, listening to the sound of someone moving closer. “Whoever you are, you are not supposed to be here. This lab belongs to my father, and you have no right being here. If you head to the door now and leave, I won’t call the cops.” The footsteps stopped and a shadow drew near. Thomas held up the flashlight and saw a man in front of him. Before he could say another word, the man withdrew a gun from his pocket and fired. There was a blinding flash of light and a sound that boomed loudly in Thomas’s ears, followed by a stinging sensation in his chest. A warm stain began to spread out over his shirt, and he looked down to see blood flowing out from a bullet wound. He had been shot. Dropping down to the floor, he gasped for breath, the blood pooling up in his mouth and spilling out over his lips. He knew that the shot was probably fatal; he could feel his lungs collapsing and the blood pouring out around him in rivers. He would be dead within minutes. His assailant walked forward and stepped into the light from his fallen flashlight. Thomas struggled to see who it was, but his vision was already beginning to blur. The man bent down and picked up the Prox notebook from where it had fallen, pausing to wipe off the blood and then slowly turned around and walked away. The last thought that came across Thomas's mind before he blacked out was… ‘No one knows I’m here.’

Dustin Bates sat in his car, feeling miserable. After the embarrassing conversation with Scott, he felt like he made a grave mistake, and trusted the wrong person. Deep down inside, he knew that no one in their right mind would believe him, but had hope that since Scott was going through a rough time, he might be the one… but he was wrong. Now just like everything else in his life, Dustin found that he was failing, and the more he tried to have hope, the more he became rejected. Turning the key in the ignition, he started the engine, and the radio started blaring some mind numbing rock music that he didn’t care for. Switching it off, he reversed out of the drive way and onto the interstate. As he drove, the street lights high above lit up the passenger seat of his car as he passed by them. Sitting next to him, splattered with fresh blood was the Prox journal and the gun that he used to murder Thomas Bell with.


End file.
